Breathe, Just Breathe
by LoveAndSerenity
Summary: The thought of him not being in your life literally terrifies you. You need to get these feelings out, then maybe they won't threaten the life they belong to. Relax, vent, and breathe, just breathe. Troypay, minimal Ryella. Kinda drabble-ish.


**Breathe, Just Breathe  
**_By LoveAndSerenity_

**Hey, me again! I was reading a ton of Troypay drabble today, and I thought, you know, I could try that. So I did. It's kinda long, I guess, but I think it's better than "Busy Being Fabulous", so I guess it's okay. This took me less than three hours though, so I don't know how good it is.**

**I want to know what you think about it, though, so please, PLEASE review! It means so much to me when you do. And plus, it helps me make my writing better, so you get to enjoy better quality work!**

**Wow, I'm making a poor attempt at trying to get you to review. Oh well. Please, please review. No flames unless it deserves it. I don't want flames because you hate Troypay or anything like that. Please only leave flames if my work honestly deserves it. Which I hope it doesn't.**

**I began writing this as just a drabble. But when I got to the part about getting her feelings down on paper, I remembered a line from the song "Breathe (2 AM)". I love that song, and when I realized how great the line would fit in the story, I went through and made the story revolve slightly around the some of the lyrics. I used one or two lines from it, but other than that, it was just what came out. So it's kinda a songfic, but not exactly.**

**If you don't understand, the 'you' it keeps referring to is Sharpay. It's from Sharpay's POV, in second person.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own the song "Breathe (2 AM)", by Anna Nalick. I don't own HSM, but when I marry Zac Efron, he'll be mine. (Hee hee ;P) I own everything else besides that stuff, though. The plot, the writing, etc.; you know how these work.**

* * *

Uncertain. Anxious. Scared.

That's how you feel. You know you only have one year left. One year, before the time will come for you to go off to college, to separate yourself from the world you've grown up in.

One year.

You don't know what will happen this year. You don't know what will change. But you do know, when you pass by his locker and see him, what you _want_ to happen.

You know what you want to change.

But you're scared. You're afraid it won't happen, and when the time comes, he'll walk out of your life forever, and you'll never be together. You're afraid it won't all work out in the end. You're afraid that their wonderful, perfect, fairytale relationship will hold.

You're afraid that this time, like so many other times, the sweet, perfect girl will triumph over the mean, evil one.

You're afraid it'll end like that, and all you will be able to do is dream, and fantasize, and pretend. You're afraid it will never become real for you, that the year will end, and he'll still be by her side.

You're worried that you will never get a chance to show him the real you. The you that has feelings and insecurities just like everyone else. The you who every now and then gets sick of everything pink. The you who wants someone to care about you, to show you that you don't have to be perfect and pretty every moment of your life, because he loves you just the way you are.

You _need_ that someone.

And you want it to be him.

You're anxious. You don't know what's wrong with you, but it's all you can think about. You wonder if you're bordering on actual, unhealthy obsession.

But you don't care.

He's all you care about. Him and the unknown future ahead of you both.

You want him in it, and you're anxious and nervous that he won't be. You're almost shaking with the strength of these feelings, and you're terrified.

You're terrified of what will happen to you if it doesn't work out. You're scared to death that your life will fall apart, and your life will mean nothing without him.

And so you write this down, your feelings, your worries, your pain. You write it down, on a piece of paper, and you put it in your pocket. You had to let it out somewhere, and paper was the closest and easiest way.

You felt that if you got it out on paper, it no longer would be inside you, threatening the life it belongs to.

You didn't notice that when it gently floated out of your pocket and hit the ground, he was watching. You have no idea that he picked it up, and read it, and that his eyes grew wide.

That when he read it, he finally got to see how you honestly feel about him. That you don't just want him because he's popular or any shallow reason like that.

You are completely unaware of the fact that he knows that you really, truly love him.

You have no idea that his perfect, fairytale relationship ended a week ago, when he saw her with your brother.

You know nothing about how hurt he was when she told him she was done with him, and no idea how truly happy and in love your brother is now that he's with her.

So you sit, alone, in the deserted theater. If it doesn't work out with him, you're convinced theater will be all you'll have left. Just the stage, and your brother, of course.

They would be the only ones who you would mean something to, if you had to live life without him.

You're so caught up in your own world of fear, of worry, of pain, that you don't hear him come in behind you. You don't see him walking up to you.

But out of your own pain, your own anxious mind, your heart starts racing. You choke. Silent tears fall down your face, and you're afraid of them. He means this much to you, that the very _thought_ of not being with him in the end is making you cry. And that scares you.

You're afraid of how much you love him.

Your breath becomes quick, as your lungs have trouble getting enough air when you cry. You try so hard to calm yourself, taking deep breaths.

He's watching you, and it's breaking his heart to see you like this. He knows what's wrong. He read the paper. He knows, and he understands. And it kills him to see you in pain because of him.

So he goes up to you, slowly, and he wraps his arms around you. You look up, your tear-filled eyes meeting his, and you're instantly hypnotized by the beautiful blue orbs gazing back at you.

He looks at you silently, with pain, regret, hope, and desire in his eyes.

"Troy?"

You look back at him, and you wonder if you've died. You wonder if the pain was so much that you just died, and this is your heaven.

He holds you tight, and his warmth seeps through your own body, and calms your aching heart.

You don't know what's happening. You have no idea why he's here with you, but right now, all you care about is the fact that he is, that you're in his arms, and he wants you there.

He senses your thoughts, and he knows you don't understand. He shows you the paper, carefully folded, delicately.

He shows you and your breath sticks in your throat.

He read it, and he knows the deepest, strongest feelings your heart holds. The feelings you wanted to keep secret.

You gasp as the terror sinks in. He looks at you, concerned.

"Sharpay..."

You look at him, and your eyes meet. He gives you a reassuring smile, but you see the sadness in it.

Your breath stops completely. You know you're going to die, right here, in the arms of the one your heart longs for so desperately.

He sees your reaction. He leans down, and slowly, softly, his lips meet yours. And he breathes life into you once more.

When he pulls away, ever-so-gently, you feel amazed. You must have died. You died, and your heaven is better than anything you've ever felt before.

He looks at you, and holds you closer to him, tighter. He kisses your cheek, and quietly, he whispers in your ear, his warm breath sending tingles through you, his voice making your heart beat fast.

"Sharpay," he whispers, "breathe. Just breathe."

And you do. You breathe deeply, and calm and peace envelope your body again. Now, you're sure, this is real.

You have never heard him say your name this way. Never before has he said your name with so much affection obviously evident in his voice.

It's real, and you don't know it, but he is just as glad as you that it is.

He's really with you, you're really together, right here, right now. This moment will be in your heart forever.

You hug him tightly, you snuggle your head against his warm chest, the chest of the man you've wanted to hold for as long as you can remember. The chest of the man that you now know will protect you. The man who will hold you when you need to be held. The man who will show you that you don't always have to be perfect and pretty, despite the fact that to him, you are always beautiful.

The man who loves you as much as you love him.

He kisses the top of your head, and you both just sit there, silently, in bliss.

Everything will be alright. You know. Because now you have each other, and nothing will come between you.

"Breathe," he says, and you do. You breathe.

He looks at you again, leaning down, and you lean up. Your lips meet again, and you feel the emotions within your souls. You kiss him, and he kisses you, and you feel the love you both share.

And you breathe.

* * *

**Thanks for reading! Please review! Thanks again!**

**--Serenity  
**


End file.
